Rocketman
by Seema
Summary: Tom writes a letter to an old friend. Part of the Glory Days series.


Title: Rocketman  
Author: Seema  
Email: seemag1@y...  
Series: VOY  
Rating: PG-13  
Codes: P, Neelix, P/T  
Part: NEW 1/1  
Archive: ASC yes, Rocky's site, everyone else please  
ask  
Website: http://seema.org  
  
Author's notes: Part of the "Glory Days" series.  
Follows immediately after the events of "Act of War",  
and "Empty Sky" - it's best to read those stories  
first as this one relies heavily on those. The other  
"Glory Days" stories can be found on my site  
(http://seema.org/myfanfic/gd_index.htm) or Rocky's  
(http://www.angelfire.com/yt/rockyroad). Many thanks  
to Rocky for the beta.  
  
****  
  
When a friend is lost, the mind is split in half,  
Divided between memory of the past and fear of the  
future. Harry Kim, Ensign. Only a boy when fate took  
you from the arms of blue-green Earth.  
  
- From the sixth season episode, "Muse"  
  
****  
  
Tom Paris swore under his breath as he tripped over  
the box in the dark. He stopped himself just in time  
for calling for illumination; B'Elanna was sleeping  
just a few meters away, though with the amount of  
medication in her system, he doubted if even a herd of  
targs could wake her. He righted himself, his hand  
scraping against the plastic cover of the crate. He  
took a deep breath. Harry's things. He'd tripped over  
Harry's things.  
  
He looked over his shoulder at the biobed to see if  
his bumbling in the dark had disturbed B'Elanna. He  
wasn't sure if he felt relief or disappointment - or a  
mixture of both - that B'Elanna didn't stir. And if it  
hadn't been for the cortical monitor affixed to her  
forehead and the screen just off to the side keeping  
check on her vital conditions, Tom would have sworn  
that his wife was simply sleeping.  
  
Deciding not to take the chance of making more noise  
by stumbling in the dark, Tom called in a low voice,  
"Computer, lights. Twenty percent."  
  
Tom turned to look back at the box, or rather boxes  
clustered in the corner of the room. He had managed to  
fit the sum of Harry Kim's life into six standard  
Starfleet-issue crates. Everything except for the  
uniforms. He'd left them - all but a single dress  
uniform - in Harry's closet back on the Livingston;  
the dress uniform would be used for Harry's funeral,  
scheduled to take place just a few days from now in  
San Francisco. Staring at the boxes now, Tom wondered  
whether he'd made a mistake in leaving Harry's  
uniforms behind for the Livingston's crew to dispose  
of? Maybe Harry's parents would want those uniforms,  
all nine of them. But it was too late to return to the  
Livingston now; the starship, crippled over a week ago  
in the Neutral Zone 'conflict' - as Starfleet brass  
now referred to the sudden outbreak of hostilities  
between the Federation and the Romulans - was now on  
its way to Utopia Planetia for much-needed repairs and  
he and B'Elanna had transferred to the Pasteur just  
eight hours previously, bound for Earth.  
  
Tom sat on one of the boxes. He was tired and he knew  
he should get some rest. He had spent a week traveling  
from San Francisco to the Neutral Zone, arriving on  
the Livingston just the day before. He'd only had  
about twelve hours on the Livingston - just enough  
time to check on B'Elanna, conference with her doctors  
and then to collect Harry's belongings for transport  
before the scheduled rendezvous with the Pasteur this  
morning. He was grateful that the medical staff on the  
Pasteur had been kind enough to give them private  
quarters, rather than consigning them to a corner of  
Sickbay. Of course, they'd had to bring the medical  
equipment with them and the doctors emphasized that  
even though B'Elanna's status had been upgraded from  
critical to stable, if her condition changed at any  
time, they would have to readmit her to Sickbay for  
the duration of the trip back to San Francisco.  
  
Despite the comfort of their own private cabin, sleep  
didn't come easy for Tom; he'd tossed and turned for  
the last hour on the recliner next to her biobed until  
finally, he'd gotten up to check on B'Elanna more  
closely; given his proximity to her bed, he knew he  
would be able to hear her if she called out. She  
hadn't reacted when he'd touched her clammy hand or  
when he'd smoothed away her hair from her forehead.  
But her breathing was even and her pulse steady; this  
much he had to be satisfied with.  
  
Tom glanced turned to look at the array of boxes next  
to him. He'd spent about three hours in Harry's  
quarters on the Livingston, grabbing everything he  
could see, everything that could possibly be  
meaningful to the Kim family. At first, he had rushed  
in his packing, grabbing random items and then,  
remembering how Harry was, Tom had forced himself to  
slow down and methodically pack the remainder of his  
friend's belongings.  
  
Tom took a deep breath and rose. His foot still ached  
from where he'd banged it against the box. It was then  
he recalled the small case of holochips he had found  
on Harry's desk. Where *had* he put it? Tom couldn't  
begin to explain it, but at that moment, it was  
supremely important to him that he find the holochips.  
Urgently, Tom started rifling through the boxes,  
finally locating the case in the fourth container. He  
held it in his hands, caressing it lightly. Tom  
inhaled sharply and then removed the holochip he  
wanted.  
  
Tom quickly changed out of his blue pajamas into  
loose-fitting pants and a t-shirt. As an afterthought,  
he pulled on a pair of loafers, deciding to forgo  
socks for the time being. After a quick check on  
B'Elanna, he left the guest quarters. Down the  
corridors he went, barely aware of the Pasteur's crew  
passing him by. Finally, he found the holodeck and  
luckily, at this late hour, it was available.  
  
Tom opened the case and selected one chip and plugged  
it in. As the doors opened, he found himself in the  
monochromatic world of Captain Proton.  
  
"Oh Harry," Tom whispered. He bit his lip as he took a  
look around. Everything was exactly as he remembered  
it, from the boxy computers to the hard, wooden  
furniture and the garish flashing lights. Tom pulled  
out a wooden chair and sat down at the desk. He  
wondered how long it would be for Chaotica to make an  
appearance, or even Queen Arachnia. "Computer, do not  
start program until I say so."  
  
"Affirmative."  
  
Tom leaned back in the chair. The room was so empty,  
so cavernous, without - without Harry. Shakily, Tom  
got to his feet. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone.  
But B'Elanna had been drifting in and out of  
consciousness for days now and he also didn't think  
she was in the shape to talk about Harry's death.  
  
Harry's death.  
  
Tom's heart skipped a beat. He remembered the utter  
relief he'd felt when his father had broken the news  
that B'Elanna had survived the battle in the Neutral  
Zone. However, only a minute later, Owen Paris had  
revealed that Kathryn Janeway was so grievously  
injured that she'd had to be put into stasis during  
the transport to the medical facilities on Vulcan. Tom  
had started to relax then, just a little bit; Vulcan  
had some of the best doctors on the Federation and he  
knew Janeway was in the best possible hands. The  
sorrowful expression on his father's face, however,  
had told Tom that there was more bad news to come -  
news, that Tom in a thousand years, would never have  
the time to get used to. Owen Paris had delivered the  
crushing news of Harry's death but Tom hadn't been  
able to absorb the news properly as in the next  
breath, Owen informed Tom that passage had been booked  
for him on a fast transport to the Neutral Zone.  
  
"I thought you said B'Elanna would be here in a few  
days," Tom had said. He had placed his palm flat on  
the top of desk for support. "I thought you said she  
was fine." The volume of Tom's voice had risen  
slightly.  
  
"Yes, I did, but I was sure you'd want to be with her,  
so I took the liberty of making the arrangements for  
you," Owen had said. When pressed for more  
information, Owen had been evasive - at best - with  
the details of B'Elanna's status. The only additional  
information Owen had offered was, "She's in critical  
condition and the doctors say that the next ten days  
are crucial."  
  
Tom had stared at his father in disbelief. "The next  
ten days are crucial?" Tom had asked. He'd run his  
hand through his hair, trying to hide his shaking  
hands. "What does that mean? That's not the same thing  
as 'fine', Dad."  
  
"You're a medic," Owen had said softly. "You know that  
that means." In a rare demonstration of physical  
affection, Owen had placed his hand gently on Tom's  
shoulder. "I think you should go out there, Tom."  
  
Tom had nodded, slowly comprehending his father's  
words. B'Elanna may have survived the initial battle  
but she wasn't out of the woods yet. And from the dire  
tone his father's voice had taken on, Tom suspected  
that the doctors were pessimistic on her chances for  
recovery either.  
  
"I called in some favors, son," Owen had told Tom. "At  
the moment, non-essential personnel are not allowed in  
areas surrounding the Neutral Zone, at least not until  
the situation calms down, but a good friend of mine,  
Admiral Necheyev, is heading out there now to resume  
negotiations with the Romulans. She has agreed you can  
travel on her ship. You leave in a few hours. Don't  
worry about the children. Your mother and I will be  
happy to take care of them. You need to get  
to B'Elanna."  
  
Numbly, Tom had agreed. He had moved almost  
mechanically, informing the flight school's secretary  
that he would be out for at least a couple of weeks  
and that a substitute instructor would be needed to  
take over his classes; luckily, he had planned well in  
advance and the substitute would be easily able to  
follow the course syllabus already written up. Tom's  
mother had assured him that she would pack for the  
children's stay with them; it was one thing Tom didn't  
need to worry about. He decided to tell Miral and Joey  
that he was going on a trip to go get Mama and that he  
would be back in a few weeks. Neither child had seemed  
terribly upset at the prospect of his departure; they  
both adored their grandparents and were overjoyed at  
the prospect of staying with Owen and Marta Paris for  
a few weeks.  
  
The call from the grief-stricken Kims had come just an  
hour before he'd departed from San Francisco; could  
Tom bring Harry's personal items back to San Francisco  
since 'non-essential' personnel were banned from  
traveling to the Neutral Zone? They'd also informed  
Tom then that they had petitioned against a 'burial'  
in space, wanting instead for Harry's body to be  
brought to San Francisco. The petition had been  
granted and they wanted Tom to bring Harry back to  
them. Tom had agreed, but his throat had constricted  
as he did so.  
  
"We want to see him one more time," Mary Kim had told  
Tom tearfully.  
  
"I understand," Tom had replied mechanically. He'd  
only met John and Mary Kim a few times before, most  
recently at a party celebrating Harry's assignment to  
the Livingston. But Tom's brief encounters with the  
Kims had shown just how much their lives revolved  
around their only child. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Kim. I  
can't even begin to put into words-" he had stopped  
there, suddenly imagining their positions reversed and  
that it was Miral or Joey who had died. The lump in  
Tom's throat had prevented him speaking.  
  
"You were Harry's best friend," John Kim had  
interrupted. "Since we cannot go ourselves to the  
Livingston, we feel so relieved that it is you who  
will bring Harry's things for us and not some  
stranger. It makes it... easier."  
  
"I understand," Tom had said again, finding it hard to  
say anything else. He was grieving for Harry as well,  
but he knew that it had to be a million times worse  
for Harry's parents; they'd lost their son once before  
to the Delta Quadrant and now, a scant six years  
later, they'd lost him again - this time forever. "Mr.  
and Mrs. Kim, I'm so sorry. I-" he'd stopped there,  
once again at a loss for words. And then he'd simply  
said, "I'll bring Harry's things for you."  
  
Now, as Tom wandered around the holodeck, his throat  
tightened again. Here he had played Captain Proton and  
Harry had been his loyal sidekick, Buster Kincaid. The  
last time they'd 'played' in this scenario on Voyager  
had been the week before Miral's birth. The Delaney  
sisters had participated and they had even managed to  
talk Seven into joining them as well. And that last  
time, Neelix had been there and had managed to wheedle  
his way into playing the part of an evil overlord. The  
casting had been incongruous, to say the least, but  
Neelix had enjoyed himself greatly.  
  
A few days later, Neelix had chosen to leave Voyager,  
to start a new life with Dexa and Brax - the Talaxian  
woman and her son with whom he'd formed instant bonds  
when Voyager had unexpectedly discovered a colony of  
Talaxians. If I'd only known that that was the last  
time, Tom thought a little sadly. But at the same  
time, he'd been happy that Neelix had found happiness  
with Dexa and Brax; Tom had always been aware that  
Neelix continued to miss Kes and hadn't had a serious  
relationship since Kes' departure - the brief and  
tragic affair with Talli on the Mari planet  
notwithstanding. Tom ran his fingers over the  
computer. Once he'd admired the blinking lights, the  
knobs and levers; he had always enjoyed the more  
manual controls than the automated computer wizardry  
and he'd incorporated that same 'rudimentary  
engineering' - B'Elanna called it - into the Delta  
Flyer. Neelix had been fascinated, to say the least,  
with the primitive Captain Proton setting and Tom  
could still remember him cackling - as an evil  
overlord should, Neelix had insisted.  
  
It occurred to Tom that someone would have to tell  
Neelix about what had happened. He took a deep breath.  
Janeway was in no condition to deliver the news - if  
she even knew what had happened. Tuvok was on Vulcan  
and Tom knew that if even if Janeway weren't on  
Vulcan, Tuvok would already be at her side - no matter  
the distance. Tom also hadn't heard from Chakotay or  
Seven in months. B'Elanna had been close to Neelix but  
Tom knew that she wouldn't be up to talking about  
Harry to the Talaxian - or anything else, for that  
matter. Which left the task of informing Neelix to  
him.  
  
Tom pondered; should he wait? After all, the message  
wouldn't be transmitted to Neelix until after they  
returned to Earth and even so, it would take several  
days for it to reach Neelix after it was sent as well.  
Tom took another long look around the holodeck,  
feeling lonely and hollow inside. He wanted - no,  
*needed* - someone to talk to. On Voyager, there had  
been no counselors to help them through the difficult  
times, but they'd been able to comfort each other and  
share in each other's pain. At the moment, Tom Paris  
felt very, very alone. It wouldn't be the same as  
having Neelix here in the room with him, but Tom knew  
that Neelix was a wonderful listener; in fact, Tom had  
managed to have entire conversations with the Talaxian  
without Neelix ever saying a word. And those talks had  
always ended up with Tom feeling much, much better.  
  
"Computer, begin recording. Audio and visual both."  
Tom eyed the chair. Should he sit for this? How long  
did it take to convey bad news anyway? Better yet, how  
to start a message like this? He chose to remain  
standing. "It's Tom." He laughed, almost shakily.  
"Guess you figured that out by now, huh?" He cleared  
his throat. It seemed impersonal to come right out and  
say that Harry was dead, had died in the line of duty,  
and his funeral would be next week. Tom twisted his  
hands together. Damn it, this was *Janeway's* job, not  
his; commanding officers bore the brunt of relaying  
bad news, not helm officers. He paused then, realizing  
that unconsciously he still thought of himself on  
Voyager, of Janeway still being his commanding  
officer. Tom felt an irrational burst of anger at  
being placed in this position, but then pushed it  
away; it would do no good to blame Janeway or anyone  
else for what had happened in the Neutral Zone. He  
decided then that he wouldn't sit down - he had too  
much nervous energy to burn and somehow, walking made  
him think more lucidly.  
  
"I wish you were here, Neelix," Tom continued. "You'd  
know what to do. You'd know what to say." He shook his  
head as he rounded the computer and climbed a step  
towards the time machine. "My problem is, I'm not sure  
how to start or what to say. It would be different if  
you were sitting right here with me. It's easier, you  
know, to talk to a person than to record a message.  
I'm just going to talk, okay, Neelix? I may edit  
later, I may not. I'm not really sure. I hope you  
understand." Tom took a deep breath, pausing a second  
to let the emotion clear from his voice before  
continuing on.  
  
"You always had the right words, Neelix. I always  
envied that." Tom wiped his hand against his face.  
"And I feel terrible now because I never responded to  
your last note. The one you sent six or seven months  
ago. You had good news to report, that you and Dexa  
were expecting a baby. I imagine he or she is here by  
now." Tom paused. "Also, congratulations on  
establishing a new trade route. It sounds to me like  
you've really done well for yourself. I hope you're  
happy and well-established in your life now. It  
certainly sounds like you are." Tom sat heavily in the  
wooden chair. There was no way to gently cushion the  
news; he had to come out and say it directly. "I wish  
I wasn't sending bad news, Neelix, I really wish I  
wasn't. As you might guess from this message's  
signature, I'm talking to you from aboard a medical  
ship, the Pasteur. I'm here because B'Elanna is very  
ill from injuries sustained during a battle in the  
Neutral Zone and Harry-" he swallowed hard - "Harry is  
dead. He died in the line of duty in that same  
battle."  
  
Tom paused. The battle in the Neutral Zone had erupted  
without warning; until that moment, all signs had  
pointed to a successful resolution in the conflict  
between the Romulans and the Ponzi raiders who  
insisted on preying on both Federation and Romulan  
colonies on either side of the Neutral Zone. From what  
little B'Elanna had been able to tell him and the  
information he'd gathered from reports his father had  
supplied him with, Tom surmised that the captain of  
the Federation starship Amherst had been a little  
trigger-happy and had decided to fire a warning shot  
at a Ponzi ship; the misguided missile had slammed  
into a Romulan freighter instead, causing the Romulans  
to fire back at the Amherst.  
  
"It escalated from there. B'Elanna's ship - the  
Minuteman - responded to the Amherst's distress call.  
I'm sure B'Elanna mentioned the Minuteman to you; she  
was one of the chief engineers responsible for the  
design specs of the new Mars-class ships. Harry  
shouldn't have even been there. He was assigned to the  
Livingston and he and Janeway beamed over to the  
Minuteman perhaps an hour at most before hostilities  
broke out." Tom cleared his throat. The reports had  
indicated severe damage to the Minuteman due to the  
Romulans' new weapons' technology and B'Elanna had  
been forced to eject the warp core, which had been  
leaking massive amounts of radiation. Somewhere along  
the line, Harry had shown  
up to assist B'Elanna and the other engineers in  
trying to salvage the ship.  
  
"Harry was injured in one of the Jefferies tubes. He  
and B'Elanna were trapped there, trying to reroute  
critical systems in order to erect force fields and  
keep the Minuteman space worthy until help arrived. It  
should have been a safe place to wait, but the battle  
wasn't over. The aftershock of the Amherst's  
destruction caused a massive shockwave and Harry was  
thrown up against the wall," Tom said. He cleared his  
throat before continuing. "He sustained severe head  
trauma. However, it was a 'slow bleeder' so he managed  
to keep consciousness but B'Elanna was concerned for  
him. He told B'Elanna that it wasn't serious when she  
insisted he go to Sickbay and when they were beamed to  
the Livingston, he insisted that she get treatment  
before him. She was having trouble breathing, but you  
know B'Elanna-" Tom shook his head - "she was adamant  
about Harry. Only the doctors' intervention caused her  
to accept medical help before Harry; they said she was  
suffering from pulmonary distress." Tom took a deep  
breath. He had visualized this scene in his mind many  
times, thinking on how chaotic the Livingston's  
sickbay must have been. "Harry died an hour later.  
Quietly and-" Tom cleared his throat - "alone."  
  
Tom had talked to the doctors when he'd first arrived  
aboard the Livingston. They'd found Harry Kim sitting  
in a chair, leaning against the wall, his eyes  
half-closed, his expression relaxed. No pain, the  
doctors had told Tom, he just slipped away, quietly  
and peacefully.  
  
"It sounds like negligence, Neelix, but it really  
wasn't. The Livingston's sickbay was in chaos. They  
didn't have enough medical personnel or equipment to  
treat the injured. You know how it is in a hostile  
situation. Events move so quickly, you make decisions  
without thinking them through clearly and you just  
hope that you've done the right thing. Harry insisted  
he felt fine and it was obvious to everyone that  
B'Elanna needed surgery immediately or she would die.  
And while she was in surgery, Harry sat down to wait."  
Tom paused. "The doctors insist that he felt nothing,  
but it still haunts me, that he died alone and I can't  
stop thinking about." Tom rose from his seat, his  
heart beating rapidly as he twisted his hands  
together. "I sometimes wonder if that's a lie we tell  
the survivors, that the victim felt nothing because it  
eases the loss for us." Tom stopped. "But I can't  
believe it, that he was there, that he was within  
inches of help and still..." Tom shook his head. "But  
that's such a 'Harry' thing to do, you know? Playing  
the hero? Wanting to be the one to take care of his  
friends?"  
  
Tom swallowed hard and then continued his pacing. "I  
just came from the Livingston, his ship, where he  
should have been all along, Neelix. Or rather, I  
arrived earlier this morning. I had to pack Harry's  
things for his parents. No, that makes it sound like I  
didn't want to do it. I did want to do it. I thought  
it would be easy. After all, it's just *things*,  
right? Inanimate objects? How hard could it be?" Tom  
stopped. "His quarters were perfect, as always. You  
know how Harry was. All hospital corners. Everything  
in its place, not a speck of dust anywhere."  
  
It had been eerie in those first few minutes. He'd  
stood in the middle of Harry's quarters, unable to  
even think of where to start. Despite Harry's neatness  
and organization, Tom had been overwhelmed by the task  
in front of him. The fact that B'Elanna would wake in  
a couple hours and she'd need him as well as only  
having a few hours to get the task done propelled Tom  
into action. He'd moved mechanically, first wrapping  
up the personal items on the desk and then moving to  
the closet to fold away the uniforms. At the bottom of  
the closet, he'd found Harry's footlocker.  
  
Hunching down, Tom had popped it open. He'd found  
Harry's personal letters there, and in a small box,  
holoimages. Tom had stopped then, his fingers  
clutching the edge of the box as he'd stared at the  
memories Harry had carefully preserved. In typically  
Harry fashion, each one had been carefully labeled  
with stardate and the names of the individuals in the  
pictures. There had been several of Tom and Harry  
together, including one of them dressed up to 'play'  
in the Captain Proton scenario. Tom swallowed hard; he  
had the exact same picture in his office back at the  
Academy. He carefully replaced the picture in the box,  
placing it aside for Harry's parents.  
  
"Harry had his saxophone and clarinet both on board  
the Livingston. I wanted to ask someone if he played  
still but I couldn't find anyone to ask. But I'm sure,  
if there weren't already a quartet on board the  
Livingston, he would have formed one himself. You know  
Harry. He loved to play those instruments," Tom said.  
His throat was starting to feel hoarse. "It really  
bothered me when I saw the saxophone and clarinet  
cases. It hit me then, that I'd never hear Harry  
perform again and how I never told him on Voyager that  
I appreciated his music. I think it was in that moment  
the reality of what had happened became real for me."  
Tom shook his head. "The trip on Admiral Necheyev's  
ship to rendezvous with the Livingston was  
nerve-wracking. I was comfortable, physically  
comfortable, that is. I had a stateroom, the type they  
assign to visiting diplomats. Despite the luxury, I  
couldn't relax for a second. I couldn't eat, I  
couldn't sleep, and I couldn't sit still. I was so  
worried about B'Elanna - they, the doctors - wouldn't  
tell me exactly what had happened to her, and they  
were equally reticent about the Admiral Janeway's  
condition. I've never been so frightened in my life,  
Neelix. It's a long time to be alone with your  
thoughts. A very, very long time. Memories blur,  
recollections fade, and I was frantic, trying to  
remember everything about Harry, and all the things we  
experienced together, all the times - good and  
bad--that we shared." Tom remembered the utter panic  
he'd felt when he'd realized he was already starting  
to forget Harry's mannerisms, things Harry had said.  
It had bothered Tom greatly because, after all, he'd  
just met Harry in a chance encounter the previous year  
at Starbase 4. "Somewhere between Earth and the  
Livingston, I decided that it couldn't be true. It was  
all just a big mistake. Harry wasn't dead. He couldn't  
be, because selfish as it sounds, I had too much to  
say to him and there was so much that he still needed  
to do."  
  
Tom's hands shook and all of his emotions welled up in  
his throat once again. He wasn't the type to cry, but  
he felt closer to a meltdown than ever before; even  
Caldik Prime had not had this same kind of intensity.  
Back then he'd thought that the loss of his friends,  
due to his negligence, had been the worst thing that  
could have ever happened to him. But he'd managed to  
numb that pain and somehow push it behind him so that  
it didn't hurt as much. This time, it was different.  
Harry had been his best friend - someone who had  
accepted Tom unconditionally.  
  
"Even though my father had told me about Harry, I  
didn't really understand what it meant. I know that  
must sound crazy because really, what's there to  
understand? If someone is dead, they're dead. It's  
pretty straight-forward, but in my mind, it wasn't  
something I could comprehend," Tom said. He took a  
deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "How could  
it be real? Harry had his entire life in front of him  
and his career was finally going in the direction he  
wanted it to be. The last time I saw him, he was-" Tom  
paused, looking for the right words. Harry had been  
his usual responsible self, wanting to get back to the  
science conference, but Tom had urged him, for old  
time's sake, for another go in the Captain Proton  
scenario. Now Tom was intensely grateful that he had  
forced the issue.  
  
"The first time I met Harry, we were on Deep Space  
Nine, at Quark's. He was striking a deal with the  
Ferengi bartender and was being taken for a ride, by  
the looks of it." Tom chuckled briefly at the memory.  
"I don't know what it was about Harry that made me  
want to step in, because, as you know, back then, I  
could be just as mercenary and cold-hearted as a  
Ferengi if I wanted to be. But I did and from then  
on, I always thought of Harry as someone I needed to  
look out for. Perhaps as a way to redeem myself, or  
maybe it was because of the unconditional way Harry  
accepted me and my past, even when Commander Cavit and  
Dr. Fitzgerald warned him against me." Tom smiled  
wryly - a bit inappropriately as well. "You never had  
the displeasure of meeting these two gentlemen,  
Neelix, but they didn't care for me as they'd made up  
their minds about me and weren't inclined to change  
them. Unfortunately, they had the capacity to  
influence the rest of the crew, except for Harry. He  
told them that he was capable of choosing his own  
friends. It was such a contrast from the way the rest  
of Voyager's crew treated me."  
  
Tom was on a roll now. He could feel the words coming  
out more easily. "I always thought of Harry as my  
sidekick, you know? Buster Kincaid to my Captain  
Proton?" Tom gestured to his surroundings, knowing  
that Neelix would recognize the program. "But when we  
were in the Aquitiri prison, it was different. When he  
first arrived in the prison, I immediately took  
responsibility for him. I was convinced that Harry  
wouldn't be able to survive the prison without me.  
After all, *he'd* never been to prison before. Hell,  
I'd never been to a prison like this one either; New  
Zealand was a luxury resort compared to this one." Tom  
shook his head at the memory. It had taken months for  
the ghosts of the Aquitarian prison to stop haunting  
his dreams; still, on occasion, he'd wake in a cold  
sweat, wondering if someone had plans to slit his  
throat so they could steal his boots.  
  
"But things changed after I got stabbed and I was weak  
from blood loss and fever. Harry took care of me and  
even then I wasn't sure Harry could take care of  
himself, let alone me. I urged him to save himself,  
not to think of me at all if he could find a way out."  
Tom laid a hand on the back of the wooden chair. "But  
Harry wouldn't think of it. We saw the worst of people  
when we were there and I'm convinced that if Harry  
hadn't stepped in, hadn't claimed me for his own-"  
here Tom paused to chuckle, remembering Harry's  
exclamation of "This man is mine!" - "I wouldn't have  
lived through the experience. I'll never forget the  
force with which he told those pressing for him to  
kill me that nobody would touch me; I was his friend.  
After that, I looked at Harry a little differently.  
Not just as a good buddy, someone to kill time with,  
to play on the holodeck with, but someone who was  
genuinely going to be there through good times and  
bad. I knew I would be able to depend on him, that his  
loyalty went far deeper than I ever imagined."  
  
Tom looked around the room. He remembered spending  
long hours on the Captain Proton scenario; he'd made  
it a point to create a new holoprogram every year to  
share with the crew, along with the Sandrine's program  
he'd brought with him aboard Voyager. The resort  
program he'd created had been popular enough - he  
still had fond memories of B'Elanna in her 'tropical'  
sundress - but he knew he had hit pay dirt when he'd  
stumbled across the Captain Proton stories. Many of  
his fellow crewmembers including the Delaney twins and  
Seven had joined him and Harry here, enjoying the  
campy and vampish feel of the program. On one rare  
occasion, Janeway had been conscripted into the part  
of Queen Arachnia, under duress, the Captain had  
insisted, but Tom had silently noted that it looked as  
if Janeway *was* indeed enjoying herself. B'Elanna, on  
the other hand, had never cared much for the Captain  
Proton program. She'd deemed the program silly (she  
hadn't had much love for Fair Haven either), but Tom  
pointed out that silliness was the precise reason why  
Captain Proton was so popular. It gave the crew a  
chance to fight an enemy - Chaotica, for instance -  
that they knew, without doubt, that they could defeat.  
And Harry had never mentioned it directly, but Tom  
knew that Harry enjoyed flirting with Constance  
Goodheart, whether 'she' be the holographic version or  
the one who was occasionally played by a female member  
of the crew.  
  
"Harry always fell for the wrong girl," Tom said, his  
voice lightening as he recalled Harry's 'romantic'  
escapades. His friend's disastrous luck with women - a  
group that included a hologram, the 'wrong twin,' an  
alien, a dead crewman, a saboteur - had amused Tom  
greatly and when they'd returned to Earth, Tom, in  
domestic bliss, had been relieved to learn that Harry  
had resumed his relationship with Libby. Perhaps, Tom  
had thought at the time, all of those other 'affairs'  
- including Tal, the alien woman who had 'infected'  
Harry - had been simply a way of forgetting the woman  
he'd really loved. But the relationship with Libby  
lasted less than a year after Voyager's return.  
Harry's only statement on the matter was that he and  
Libby would always care for each other deeply; they  
were both different people now and they needed to move  
on with their lives and he would always wish Libby  
well. "But he seemed happy enough with the decision.  
Harry had his mind set on command track. I'm pretty  
sure he was aiming for the admiralty. I believe he was  
emulating Janeway; he admired her greatly and wanted  
nothing more than her approval. It bothered him that  
she never promoted him in the DQ and I'm sure a part  
of him wondered if he truly measured up to her  
standards. That's another thing I would want to tell  
Harry. That I really think he could have done it,  
would have done it. I really believe he would have  
made a hell of a captain. He was smart, ambitious,  
resourceful - all good traits in a Starfleet officer.  
But more importantly, he was genuine, sincere, caring.  
He didn't play politics like others did and he didn't  
always take the easy way out. He was a fine officer,  
Neelix, but more importantly, he was a fine man."  
  
Tom closed his eyes. He was starting to feel sleepy  
and his voice was growing hoarse from talking. "I  
should probably tell you a little about Janeway and  
B'Elanna. I know you must be worried about them as  
well. My father informed me that Janeway had been  
placed in stasis for transport to Vulcan as her  
condition was serious. The last bit of intelligence  
says that she is currently expected to recover from  
her injuries." Tom stopped, thinking of the bit of  
information he'd received shortly before boarding the  
transport to rendezvous with the Livingston. Despite  
massive injuries, Janeway had remained in control on  
the Bridge of the Minuteman in its final minutes,  
continuing to negotiate with the Romulans for a  
ceasefire. He'd also learned the captain of the  
Minuteman, John Phillips, had been confident that the  
ship could be saved, that Janeway would be able to  
successfully convince the Romulans to stop their  
attacks; as such, no order had been given to evacuate  
the ship. The order had come later - from Janeway -  
after Captain Phillips had been killed. By then, it  
had been too late. Portions of the ship had been  
impassable and those who had survived the initial  
blasts, like Harry and B'Elanna, were blocked from  
reaching the escape pods. Others had perished from  
smoke inhalation and still more had succumbed to  
severe radiation poisoning.  
  
"B'Elanna is very ill, Neelix." Tom gave in to his  
fatigue and sat down. The hard wooden chair gave him  
the support he so desperately needed and for that  
reason, he was able to disregard the discomfort.  
"Radiation poisoning, much of it due to exposure  
during the warp core meltdown. You know B'Elanna. She  
was in Engineering until the very last minute, trying  
to erect a force field around the warp core. She was  
the last one out after ejecting the core. Another  
stubborn officer -I always said she and Janeway had a  
lot in common." Tom pressed his lips into a thin line.  
"And that was before she and Harry were doing their  
best to hold the ship together from a main junction in  
the Jefferies tube which was a smart move to make on  
their part. They didn't know though that it was also  
an area with a severe concentration of radiation  
fallout." Tom shook his head in disbelief. The doctors  
had given him a readout of their estimation of what  
the radiation levels in Engineering and the Jefferies  
tubes had been - 10 gray - and knowing that, Tom had  
been shocked that B'Elanna had even survived the  
exposure. The doctors had credited B'Elanna's Klingon  
physique, the redundant organs, for making it possible  
for her to survive when so many others had perished.  
  
"The doctors are cautiously optimistic about  
B'Elanna's chances. They say if she makes it past the  
six-week mark, we're out of the woods. I don't have to  
tell you, Neelix, about radiation poisoning, about how  
most people die within two to four weeks when they've  
been hit with a lethal dose of that magnitude. But  
B'Elanna's strong and she's going to make it." He said  
this last bit with a burst of confidence; the doctors'  
reports had been initially pessimistic but more  
recently, they had changed their tune to 'cautiously  
optimistic.'  
  
Tom rose, feeling he could no longer keep his  
exhaustion at bay; perhaps moving around would give  
him the energy necessary to finish his letter to  
Neelix. How long had he been here anyway? He cleared  
his throat. "I've got to go check on her, Neelix.  
She's so weak now, dehydrated, nauseated, and in a lot  
of pain. It's hard to see her like this, Neelix, and  
not know what to do for her. The doctors say we have  
to wait and see; conventional treatments for radiation  
sickness didn't work for B'Elanna, possibly due to the  
fact she's been exposed to so much radiation over the  
past ten to twelve years that the medications have  
simply lost their potency." Tom sighed. He knew  
B'Elanna appreciated his presence by her bedside, but  
at the same time, he knew she resented her dependence  
on him as well. "You know as well as I do that  
B'Elanna hates being coddled and she'll want to go  
back to the way things used to be. She'll want to work  
long hours again at the Starfleet Corps of Engineers.  
But somehow, I'm going to have to convince her that  
things are going to have to change because we can't  
anticipate what the long-term effects of radiation  
poisoning will be. I know she won't want to slow down,  
that's not B'Elanna's way, but I'm afraid for the near  
future, that that's the way it's going to be." He  
stopped. "I'm worried about her emotional state as  
well, Neelix. She knows about Harry and to say she's  
devastated would be putting it lightly."  
  
Tom had been furious when he'd learned that the  
doctors onboard the Livingston had told B'Elanna about  
Harry. He'd been hoping to tell her himself, knowing  
that B'Elanna would take Harry's death hard. She  
hadn't talked much about Harry in the two days they'd  
been together and this worried Tom; B'Elanna had a way  
of repressing her feelings when she was upset. She'd  
come a long way from acting out her emotions in  
suicidal holodeck programs. He'd already decided, when  
they got back to San Francisco, he'd make an  
appointment for B'Elanna to see a counselor. She'd  
fight him, he knew, but he'd be firm about it. So many  
times on Voyager they'd needed someone desperately to  
help them, and now that they had the best counselors  
in Starfleet available to them, Tom was determined to  
take advantage of their services.  
  
"Maybe it's better that B'Elanna is aware of what  
happened to Harry, I don't know. I was just concerned  
that it would slow her recovery, but I have to have  
faith in her." Without thinking, Tom quirked a smile.  
"You know B'Elanna. There's no challenge she can't  
overcome once she puts her mind to it. And you know  
something else? I'm counting on it."  
  
Tom headed to the door. "I wish you were here, Neelix.  
Not just because I know you'd be the perfect one to  
help us figure out what's going on, but also because  
you're a good friend." Tom took a deep breath. "And  
God knows, we could all use a good friend. It's only  
recently that I'm starting to appreciate what we all  
had together on Voyager and how easily it can be lost.  
I want you to know, Neelix, even though you're far  
away, you're not forgotten. You still occupy a place  
in our hearts." Tom's lips turned upwards and his tone  
lightened slightly. "After all, if it hadn't been for  
you, Neelix, B'Elanna and I would have never gotten  
married. So, we owe you. A lot. Take care, Neelix.  
I'll contact you again, hopefully under better  
circumstances." Tom gently touched the metallic  
surface of a large, boxy computer mainframe. "Computer  
end recording and transmit to personal database of Tom  
Paris, authorization alpha zeta five." Tom took one  
last, lingering look around the Captain Proton set.  
Instinctively, he knew that he would never return to  
this program. "Goodbye, old friend. Computer, end  
program."  
  
****  
  
"What is it?" Dexa stood behind Neelix, her eyes  
focused on the fading image of Tom Paris. She was  
holding a very sleepy baby in her arms. "Is something  
wrong?"  
  
Neelix inhaled deeply before turning to Dexa. The  
initial joy of receiving a message from Tom Paris had  
dissipated once he realized what the message  
contained. "It's about Harry Kim."  
  
Dexa's hand tightened on Neelix's shoulder. "Bad news?  
It sounded like it."  
  
"The very worst kind." Neelix pressed the 'rewind'  
button; he wanted to watch the vid one more time.  
Tom's message had been a little repetitious, a little  
rambling, but that was understandable, given the  
circumstances the message had been recorded under. It  
would take several more viewings before Tom's words  
actually sunk in. "Harry was killed in action." It  
sounded strange to actually say the words out-loud.  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," Dexa said softly. Dexa  
hadn't known Harry that well, but Neelix had told her  
plenty of stories and he knew that her words were  
heartfelt and sincere. She leaned down to kiss Neelix  
lightly on the cheek. "Brax and I'll be in the nursery  
with Alixia." Neelix reached up to gently touch the  
now sleeping baby in Dexa's arms on the head.  
  
"Thank you," Neelix said, grateful that Dexa had  
sensed his need to be alone to absorb the news. He  
*was* lucky, Neelix thought, and he *was* happy with  
the life he had now, comfortable with the decision  
he'd made not to continue on to the Alpha Quadrant  
with Voyager. But still, at times like this, his heart  
ached for his friends and he was reminded again just  
how much he missed them all. He cleared his throat. As  
hard as it had been for Tom Paris to dictate the bad  
news, Neelix knew it would be equally difficult to  
respond to Tom; Tom had given him too much credit when  
he had said that Neelix always 'had the right words.'  
Some things simply couldn't be put into words, Neelix  
knew. Taking a deep breath, Neelix began to compose a  
response to Tom.  
  
~ the end 


End file.
